


For the sake of argument

by LittleMissSweetheart



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 year old dumbasses, Domestic Boyfriends, Drabble, M/M, Oneshot, Post-Apocalypse, Scarf Kink, Silk scarf, VERY light bondage, aziraphale has a 50's headscarf, crowley has a scarf kink, do people still say oneshot?, magician aziraphale, minor smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-19 05:30:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19968829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissSweetheart/pseuds/LittleMissSweetheart
Summary: Aziraphale has a 50's headscarf, Crowley has a scarf kink, gee i wonder what could happen ¯\_(✿◕‿◕)_/¯





	For the sake of argument

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy a crappy oneshot i wrote while watching miranda, cause apparently all i use this website for is good omens shit haha

Aziraphale ambled out of Crowley’s bedroom, rosy cheeked and (somewhat) bleary-eyed.  
“Good morning dear.”, he smiled, waving vaguely in Crowley’s direction before sitting at the desk-turned-dining-table and delicately choosing a croissant from the plate in-between his and Crowley’s seats.  
“Good morning ange-oh..”. Crowley looked up from his newspaper, Adam’s most recent reality bending adventures sprawled across the headline, and his snake-like pupils almost doubled in size. Aziraphale, in addition to his usual pinstriped pyjamas, was wearing a headscarf. A silky lavender headscarf, wrapped loosely around his head. It had tiny cherries embroidered on it, and looked ridiculously soft. Crowley, his pupils now fully blown, stuttered a little before finally speaking. 

“You- you’re-”. He swallowed. “You’re wearing a headscarf.”  
“Yes.”, nodded Aziraphale, much more animated now the croissant had been taken care of. His face fell when Crowley continued staring, and he tugged self-consciously on the trailing end. “You don’t like it?”

“No, no, I do, very much, very good scarf, yes, um-”  
“Crowley? Is there something the matter?”  
“No, not at all, angel.”. A blush had spread itself across Crowley’s cheeks, and Aziraphale suddenly realised what the matter was. ‘Well.’, thought the angel. ‘I may as well have some fun with this.’

Aziraphale removed the headscarf, going just slower than necessary, and began to play with it, winding the scarf through his fingers and pulling it taut, only to let it go and wind it round again. He made regular breakfast conversation, acting as if he was unaware he was even playing with the scarf at all. He was, of course, and he was very interested in the effect it had on Crowley. He wasn’t flushed, per se, just fidgety, as if his imagination had run away from him. ‘Time for things to get a little more interesting’

“Anyway Crowley. You just have to feel this scarf, it’s delightfully soft. No, no, don’t get up, I’ll come round to you.”. Ignoring Crowley’s half hearted protests, Aziraphale walked around to the other side of the table, scarf in hand. He stood behind Crowley’s chair and held a corner of the scarf above Crowley’s head, letting the rest drag gently over Crowley’s face.  
“You see, Crowley. It’s ever so soft.”  
“I do see, angel. Yes, I do, yes.”. Crowley’s eyes were closed, and his voice had just a merest hint of a whine behind it.  
“Crowley?” Aziraphale began, in a voice more at home in an imp than an angel. “You wouldn’t happen to have a little- scarf kink, would you?”  
Crowley’s eyes snapped open. “No. Of course not, no.”  
“Oh. Okay my dear. I only ask because if you did, then there might be some things I could do along that theme.”  
Crowley’s breath hitched, just the tiniest bit. “Re-really? Like what? Just for the sake of argument, I mean, what might those be exactly?”

Aziraphale moved around to the front of the chair, so he was looking at Crowley. He smiled, a definitely impish smile, but there was love in his eyes. “Well I could always- give me your hands, Crowley dear.”. Crowley held out his hands eagerly, one wrist over the other. “Thank you, my love. I could always do this.”. Aziraphale wrapped the scarf around Crowley’s wrists in an ‘x’ shape, tying the ends in a little bow that Crowley couldn’t reach to undo. 

“Well, I mean, just for the sake of argument, um, what- what else might you do?”  
“What else? I’m sorry my dear, I seem to have run out of scarves. Unless- oh my, what is this up my sleeve?”. Aziraphale gave a theatrical gasp and pulled a long stream of magician’s scarves out of his pyjama sleeve, smiling widely. Crowley tried to look something along the lines of exasperated, but the thought of what Aziraphale would do with the scarves was a very exciting train of thought to be on, and Aziraphale’s magic face was overwhelmingly sweet. Once all the scarves had been removed, Aziraphale untied a shiny blue one from the string and held it in front of Crowley’s eyes. “Shut your eyes, Crowley dear.”, he said, ever so sweetly. Crowley did, and Aziraphale leaned forwards and tied the scarf like a blindfold around Crowley’s head.  
“Is this okay dear?” he asked, cautiously and soothingly. Crowley nodded, biting his lip.  
“What now angel?”. There was a definite whine in his voice now. Not without restraint, but definitely there. “Just for the, um-”  
“My love, I think it’s safe to say that you have definitely won the argument. Now -”  
Aziraphale tied the string of magician’s scarves to the scarf around Crowley’s hands and eased Crowley to his feet. “How do you feel about me leading you to the bedroom and continuing in there?”  
“I think that’s a good idea angel, I like that idea.”  
Aziraphale took the string scarves, and walked Crowley gently forwards, taking care not to let him bump into anything. He was glad that he had found his scarf that morning, and he couldn’t imagine it looking prettier anywhere than on Crowley’s wrists.


End file.
